The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-09-29


and Albert did not seem to see it.
laid 1T on his mantlepiece, and he let
it remain there. At last it struck me
to look in Albert's pocket again.
There was another glove in it, size six
and a quarter, eight buttons.
Then l went to Albert mother and
told her he was cured.
The Good White Brother.
About fifteen miles from the beauti-
full City Of Tallahassee, the capital OF
Florida. lived an old planter whose
relations with the Indians had been
SO pleasant that he had not the slight.
est fear OF danger, although an Indian
war had broke out, and he had been
warned of the possible result to him.
self. He had been almost paternal
in his conduct toward them, upright
and just in a'lhis dealings. giving them
shelter and food whenever requested,
always aiding them in distress, and
seemed to occupy a very high place in
their regard. A great many OF his
neiehbors had abandoned their plan
tations and fled to the forts, but he
remained. confident in his belief of alb
solute safety, and having been repeat.
eddy assured by. the Indians that, no
matter what happened, this 4 good
white brother" as they called him,
and his family should not be moles.
ted. His family consisted of himself,
wife, and a little girl of tender years,
and two chubby boys of and 6 years.
It was warm, beautiful day in early
September: Earth, sky and air were
in blessed amity. and the scene was
one OF placid peace and quiet: lii the
h0rAe lot the mules stood munching
their fodder, the score of slaves were
at their quarters enjoying their noon
day rest, and this planter and his wife;
having finished their dinner, were sit:
ting on the long, rambling piazza hav:
ing quiet chat over household af-
fairs. All at once they notice d a par
ty OF some thirty Indians approach
ing the house. This, however, was no
unusual spectacle, and excited no feel
ing of uneasiness or apprehension,
even though the savages were in full
war paint.
The planter. relying implicitly on the
friendly feelings he supposed were ell
tertained for him by the Indians, and
which he knew he had we'll deserved
by long years of friendly service, greet
ed them with kindly smile and a cor.
dial handshake as they came to the
porch, all OF which they appeared to
reciprocate. The good wife brought
them out d nice lunch, of the best the
house afforded, which they seemed
very grateful for. After eating this
they bestowed themselves carelessly
upon the porch, and lighting their
pipes became absorbed in the fragrant
wreaths of smoke.
What g. scene for g. painter! The
middle'aged planter and his wife in the
center, calm and peaceful. without the
slightest thought OF danger in their
minds; the two little boys romping in
the doorway; the negroes laughing
and singing in their cabins, and group.
ed around this happy home circle a
band OF merciless savages, each one,
though outwardly calm and compos-
ed, with murder ranking in his heart
end every nerve tingling with pleased
expectancy waiting for a. sign from
their leader to turn the peaceful scene
in to one OF blood, outrage, ruin and
deso!ation. In order to give his red
guests some amusement, the plan
ter called some of the slaves
to the porch. One of them had a
banjo, and rapidly lingering the
strings he sent out jolly strains OF
mild melody, to which the others
danced in rude harmony. The In.
dams seemed very much pleased with
this entertainment, but the furtive
looks that they cast at the leader
showed that they were becoming i'm
patient over the delay. Their eyes
seemed to glisten with more intense
luster; the pipes were carefully put
away; the decisive moment had come.
The leader occupied a position al
most directly in the rear of the plant
re. Carelessly stretching himself he
loosened his tomahawk from it's belt.
The others RENAMED motionless and
impressive. With quick movement,
like the leap of startled PLANTER, he
buried his hatchet in the skull of the
unsupported planter. With q smoth-
cred groan the victim fell from his
chair dead.
His wife sprang to her feet with
Wild shrek OF horror and despair and
turned to flee. A rude hand clutched
her by the hair and brought her to
her knees; a sharp knife cut her throat
from ear to ear. Another flourish OF
the blood-stained knife and her scalp
was tore off while she was yet in the
throes of death. The negroes were
placed under guard while the savages
searched high and low for the little
girl. The little boys were bound hand
and foot and their tongues cut out.
They were then thrown into the kitch-
en-. The mules were brought out and
the barn and out-buildings fired. The
search for the little girl WAS fruit
less one and was finally abandoned.
Returning to the house they secured
what plumber they could find and then
set fire to the house, and taking the
negroes with them left the place. The
bodies of the murdered parents had
ACSA uA eN3S3OO AAACO viz AACCllO1Js W1cic
the boys were, and all were left to the
wild work OF the flames.
She had gone that morning to
little stream about four miles from
her fathers house to fish, and had
not noticed the lapse of time until she
saw by the sun that it was long past
the dinner hour. Then taking her line
and string of fish she started gaily for
home. When within half mile OF the
house she saw the dense smoke, and
heard the yells of the Indians. Real
izing all the dreadful horrors that
were being perpetrated, she hid her.
self in the tall brown grass, and re-
manned there until nightfall. Then
when darkness came, almost dead
with fright and grief, she fled as fast
as her childish strength could carry
her to the cross roads, hiding there in
the dense underground until she was
rescued by party of soldiers.
Three Hot Days.